Page 5 of Hexes & Heartstrings (Shifters of Bastion Keep #2)

"Time to wake up."

Bruin opened his eyes, came face to face with a Russell whose raised eyebrows and rounded face were full of hope, then promptly shut them again.

"I want to sleep in," he mumbled.

"Already did."

Turning his head, he cracked his eyes open just enough to verify the morning sun filtering in through the curtain in Sergiy's bedroom, then drew the blankets up over his head.

"Thirty more minutes," he mumbled.

Silence answered him, and he nodded his head to himself beneath the blanket, rolling his cheek against the pillow to find a cool spot.

The ease at which Russell had given in should have activated warning bells, but in his languor he wasn't thinking of anything coherent, merely a vague sense of pleasure from being in bed.

Seconds later, Bruin was shocked awake when he was violently rolled over to the point where he fell off of the bed.

"Wah!"

He was caught before he hit the ground by a pair of strong arms, then bounced into the air a few times. Cocooned in a thin sheet blanket like a burrito, he was blind and bound, unable to free himself despite his struggles.

"Russell?"

He heard his large boyfriend chortle. "Shower time!"

"Wait, no, I'll get up, I'll be good—aaah!"

Freezing water struck his back. Bruin writhed in his confines, but between the blanket and the hug, he was helpless. Instantly, he was an alert, chilled mess.

"That's so cold! Why?"

"You said to."

"When did I tell you to freeze my ass off?"

Bruin was pulled out of the shower, but the sodden blanket made it a scarce comfort. Icy water ran down his legs and began spreading to his front through evil blanket capillary action. He wiggled his head, and a helpful hand from his captor tugged the cloth down below his face.

Bruin's befuddled glare was short-lived upon seeing the contrite expression on his boyfriend.

"You said to," Russell mumbled, eyes downcast.

And then Bruin remembered. Shit.

"Russell…" he began.

"You smell not happy," Russell said, slowly unwrapping the blanket. "I messed up, I'm sorry."

As soon as Bruin had his arms free, he raised them up to smooth out the frown on Russell's face, stroking his cheek. He shook his head fiercely.

"You didn't mess up. I remember, now. Last night, I told you to wake me up no matter what before eight o'clock. You did fine."

"You are still miserable, though."

Damn werewolves and their empathetic sense of smell. Bruin shook his head again.

"A few seconds ago, I was irritated with you, which was wrong of me. Right now, I am angry at myself for getting upset with you, which is probably what you're smelling. You did exactly what you should have done, okay? It's my fault for not getting up when you asked nicely."

Bruin crossed his arms, shivering a bit, and in response Russell pulled him into a hug, running his large, warm hands over his back.

"Is it eight?" Bruin asked.

"Yes."

Bruin breathed out. He needed to make this right.

"Okay. Thank you for waking me. You did the right thing doing what you did. If I'm ever hesitant to get out of bed again, cold water like this is a good strategy. It's my fault if I'm being lazy."

"Mm."

Bruin pulled back, looking up into Russell's doubtful face. "Listen. My parents have all done things like this to me before, and I still love my family despite the rude awakening."

"We're family, too." Russell patted him on the head, and smiled ever so slightly. "Boyfriends."

Bruin nodded. "Yes! I still feel bad for being upset with you, it wasn't deserved. Is there something I can do to make it up to you? Back massage? Belly rubs?"

Russell tilted his head, looked down at him, then looked over at the shower. Without saying anything, he reached over and turned the knob, then held a hand beneath the spray. Once Russell decided that it had reached a suitable temperature, he led Bruin into it.

For the umpteenth time, Bruin was grateful that Bastion Keep did not skimp on their plumbing.

Even in his own smaller chamber, the shower was roomy enough for a shifter in their were shape, had consistently high water pressure, and had an expensive shower head with multiple settings.

For one of the lords of the castle like Sergiy, the walk-in, stone-walled shower was spacious enough for two werebeasts and their boyfriend—and in a variety of positions—and had three shower heads so that no one was left freezing in a corner.

It was sheer decadence, and Bruin couldn't fault the royal priorities.

All of which was to say that when Russell put a hand on top of Bruin's head and pressed down, Bruin was able to get to his knees and wrap his hands around Russell's ass without bumping his feet or elbows.

Grateful for a proper chance to apologize, Bruin pressed his face up against Russell's crotch.

Letting his jaw hang loose to keep his tusks out of the way, he inhaled his boyfriend's musk, a heady scent of maleness and the outdoors that usually left him wanting to burrow up against his mate and have Russell wrap his muscular arms tightly around him.

For now, Bruin could be satisfied with taking his heavy cock in his mouth, which tasted the way he smelled, feeling it engorge as he worked his tongue and his thick lips around its head.

"I like when you do this," Russell said with his simple straightforwardness, then resumed his thrumming growls.

Encouraged, Bruin began using his hands, alternating between stroking his boyfriend's rear and fondling his balls.

By the time that Russell was fully hard, Bruin had to supplement his oral skills with a two-handed grip on his wolf's sizeable shaft, since even for an orc with a wide jaw like himself, deep throating Russell took concentrated effort and the periodic space for breath.

Grunting deeply as he worked, Bruin delighted in feeling the warm spray of water on his back, the presence of his boyfriend above him, and the way Russell's thick fingers massaged his head, sometimes gripping him forcefully so he could thrust himself down his throat.

With the occasional break to stand and steal some kisses, and to climb on top of his boyfriend while Russell fucked the crack of his ass, Bruin soon had his boyfriend on the verge.

There was a thunder as Russell slammed his two hands to either side, bracing himself against the walls in the corner of the shower, and he made whining howls as he came down Bruin's throat.

When his boyfriend's shudders subsided, Bruin stood up, licked the remaining cum off of his lips, then put his hands up on either side of Russell's lovable face, kissing that dopey smile.

"I like doing this, too," he said. "Feeling better?"

"Yes."

As they finished showering properly, involving just the right amount of lather and roving hands, Bruin looked Russell over, studying his face and his posture for any signs of stress.

Somehow, though, Bruin had lucked out on a boyfriend who not only wore his heart on his sleeve, but who also decided that when something was done, that was that.

If Russell said things were fine, then they were.

Tenderly, Bruin ran a hand down his boyfriend's back.

After using their towels to dry each other off, it was time for a late breakfast. Russell donned his normal red and gold kilt and a pair of sandals, while Bruin put on just a pair of tattered boxers and cargo shorts, preferring to go barefoot.

They descended from the third floor where Sergiy and many other permanent castle residents had their rooms, and down to the Great Hall on the first floor.

Dozens of guardians and a number of staff were already having their breakfast, clamoring loudly and sharing tales from the most recent incursion.

Bruin watched as Cadmus hopped to his feet, scuttling back and forth in a fair impersonation of a crab to a round of raucous laughter.

After a meal of flapjacks and pure maple syrup, Bruin kissed Russell goodbye as they each went about their largely self-appointed duties.

Russell took care of odd jobs around the castle as a general handyman when he wasn't playing apprentice to his father's needs, and Bruin had an appointment with his coven.

Bruin headed to the Sage's Quarter, making a detour to his room on the second floor to fit a few more crystals into his witch's bag. Then he climbed up the stairs to the third floor to meet his coven in the study.

Half classroom and half flea market, the study was home to hundreds of esoteric items ranging from brass candleholders to a gilded phonograph.

Fortunately, thanks to a weekend of group tidying spearheaded by his best friend and fellow witch Rosemary, Bruin no longer had to duck beneath spears or hopscotch over ritual bowls to make it to the desks at the front of the room.

"Good morning, Bruin," that same thoughtful witch said, raising a black-gloved hand in greeting.

Dressed in her normal outfit of corset, dark dress, and black choker, one might assume that Rosemary was somber and severe of personality, especially when paired with her goth-inspired makeup, eyeshadow, and black lipstick.

That impression only lasted until the first time you sneezed after coming in out of the cold and were forcefully whisked away to a couch, complete with blanket, ginger ale, chicken soup, and motherly hug to find the softy inside her soft figure.

"Good morning, Rosemary! I love the blue."

He waved his fingers at the glittery cerulean she had painted on her chubby brown cheeks, which dimpled as she smiled.

"Thank you. I'm trying something new." Rosemary looked back to the door, but neither of the other two were in evidence. "With the incursion, I forgot to ask about Saturday. Did you have time to do it?"

Bruin took a seat in a cushioned chair next to his friend, leaning forward conspiratorially.